Page 93 of Sinful Scottish Laird
Lord Vanderberg smiled at Daisy and invited her to join him at the other end of the room, away from the bishop and his men. He gestured for her to sit in the only chair there and stood above her—crookedly, with his hands clasped behind his back. “Now then,” he said. “My lord bishop tells me you’ve enjoyed your freedom these last few years.”
“Pardon?”
“By that I mean you have not attended church as often as perhaps you should have done—is that not so?”
Daisy glanced at the bishop, who pretended to be reading from his Bible. “I didn’t realize my attendance was an issue,” she said coolly.
“Yes, well...if I may, Lady Chatwick, if we are to come to terms, I must be able to count on you to be a willing and devout partner in our faith and service to the Lord.”
Daisy was not afraid to pledge devotion and service to the Lord...but his request seemed so much more than that. As if she were pledging to be willing and devout in service to him.
Lord Vanderberg arched a gray caterpillar of a brow. “Do I sense hesitation?”
“You do not,” she said. “I confess I am slightly taken aback, my lord, as no one has ever questioned my devotion to the Lord.”
“No? I think we must question our devotion every day,” he said and smiled, showing his yellow teeth. “It is doubly important that we do so for the sake of young Lord Chatwick.”
She didn’t hear what else he said; she was fighting off a swell of nausea. Lord Vanderberg ended his call by asking her to bow her head and join him in prayer for Ellis.
This morning, the bishop brought around Lord Yarbrough, who smiled salaciously throughout their meeting. At least he was handsome...but that was the only thing she could say for him. They had not stayed long; Lord Yarbrough begged her forgiveness with the excuse that he had a prior appointment.
She was surprised when he called again not an hour later, without the company of the bishop. When Rowley showed him into her salon, he bowed deeply and said, “I beg your pardon, madam, but I thought perhaps it might be more productive if we met without the watchful eye of Bishop Craig.”
Daisy smiled. At least she agreed with him in that regard. He took her hand and then, quite surprisingly, licked her knuckle. “Mmm,” he said, and glanced up at her through lashes so long that she wondered if they were real. “I had heard of your beauty, Lady Chatwick...but it was quite understated.”
She pulled her hand free of his and said, “I am expecting my son to join me at any moment.”
“A pity,” he purred. “As to the boy... I was educated at Framingham. I would assume the same for him?”
Daisy started. She would not send Ellis away. “He has a tutor.”
“Naturally. But he should be with boys his age.” His gaze meandered over Daisy, taking her in. “I would think a new bride would want to send her son away, at least for a time.” He casually touched the jewel at her throat. “She might be quite well occupied.” He smiled salaciously. “As will his new stepfather.”
“My lord—”
“A widow for nearly three years, isn’t that so? You must be near toburstingwith desire,” he murmured and traced a line from the jewel at her throat to the top of her breasts.
Daisy pushed his hand away. “Is this your way of courting me?”
He laughed. “There is no need tocourtyou, madam. It’s simply a matter of coming to terms, and when we do, you will be my lawful wife with all the attendant privileges that conveys.”
“And if I don’t come to terms with you?”
He shrugged. “Then you will be sorry. Were I a woman, I should much rather lie in the bed of a man who still has his wits about him than one who sleeps with a Bible.”
Daisy was beginning to quake. With rage, with frustration, with revulsion. “Please go, my lord.”
He smirked as he touched her face. “If you wish,” he said and bowed grandly before her. “Send word when you’ve come to your senses, and we will, as his lord bishop has suggested, assess compatibility.” He winked at her and walked out of the room.
When the door closed softly behind him, Daisy began to shake. She fisted her hands at her sides, trying to tamp down her rage. She had done this to herself—if she had tried in earnest to find a suitable husband, she might have spared herself this agony now. She couldn’t bear to think of either Vanderberg’s or Yarbrough’s hands on her.
“Daisy?”
She hadn’t heard Belinda enter the room. “Not now, Belinda, please,” she said and reached for the settee, falling onto it. “I am unwell.”
Belinda closed the door behind her and hurried to Daisy’s side. “What has made you ill?”
“Is it not obvious? I’m heartsick! I am utterly and completely heartsick, Belinda.” She forced herself to sit up and took Belinda’s hands in hers. “What am I to do?” she begged her cousin. “I can’t bear the thought of either one of them.”
